


Good men are dangerous

by beatriceHB



Series: All that glitters [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4008925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatriceHB/pseuds/beatriceHB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Vane encourages Flint to make public his weakness for Billy. </p><p>Follows on from What You Think I Need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good men are dangerous

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of scenes I've inserted between Flint leaving Charlestown in ruins, and Silver waking up.

The sound of voices all around him, the taste of his dry bread, even the sour smell below deck; today all of these things gave Flint a strange sort of contentment, even pleasure.

“You should lay waste to whole towns more often. It seems to suit you.”

Flint looked up from his plate to acknowledge Charles Vane, who had sat down opposite. Around them the crew’s conversation quietened a little. The sight of these two men breaking bread was something no-one had expected to see in their lifetime, and most regarded it with suspicion.

“Is that so?” Flint responded, eventually.

“I thought to find you more troubled, after what happened with the Barlow woman.”

Flint felt Billy’s body tense beside him. He placed a restraining hand on his bosun’s arm, beneath the table.

Charles was poking around speculatively, looking for points of weakness, probably just out of habit. But in truth, where Miranda was concerned there was very little weakness in Flint left to find. At the moment of her death, her loss had been devastating. But as Flint had stood on deck, watching the plumes of smoke stretch high over Charlestown, he’d felt a strange sense of peace.

Although they’d talked about moving inland and living out the rest of their lives in quiet anonymity, Flint had always known that there would be no quiet for Miranda. Her rage and despair at Thomas’s loss had nearly dwarfed his own. It had killed her slowly, eating her away from the inside out. He’d been in mourning for her, even as she lived and breathed. And all the while she’d been there in Nassau, caring for him, bearing witness to his misdeeds, the weight of his guilt had dragged behind him like an anchor. 

In its ruin and destruction, Charlestown was a fitting mausoleum for such a woman. Her last wishes were as dark as any he’d ever entertained, and he’d exalted in making them real. Every crash of gunshot, every neck broken, every chest slashed open, had been catharsis. God knows what kind of man that made him, but he wasn’t inclined to worry over it.  
“I’m reconciled to it,” he said, and continued eating.

“Well, I’m glad of that” Vane grunted in response, although he looked rather disappointed to find no sport with his line of questioning.

Billy shifted in his seat. “Captain, I need to get back up on deck, keep an eye on things. There’s a lot to do before we stop over tomorrow.” 

Flint nodded his assent “of course, but come and report before you finish for the night.” 

Billy left, with a sidelong look at Vane, who grinned back at him salaciously.

When Billy was out of earshot he said “I tried to turn him you know, more than once. Did he tell you?”

Flint smiled “no, but I’m not surprised that you tried your luck. He’s a skilled sailor”

“He’s a lot more than that. How many lettered men do you think I have on my crew? And of those few, how many do you think are good in a fight, or honest, or loyal?”

Flint wondered where this was going. He searched Vane’s expression for clues, but saw nothing alarming there. “I’m sorry you were disappointed, what else can I say? He knows his place is here.”

Vane looked around and lowered his voice. “Right next to the man he loves.”

Flint’s bread turned to dust in his mouth. He took a swig of rum and finally managed to swallow. 

Vane laughed “don’t choke, I don’t care if he warms your bed. Look, I know better than most how costly a man’s attachments can be."

Flint ran his fingers over his beard, and in a quiet voice said "I assume you’re working towards a point, would you care to make it? Then I can decide if I’m insulted.”

Vane held his gaze for a moment, then looked away. “You may not be minded to take my advice”, he said, “but here it is. You’re the most fearsome pirate Nassau has ever seen. You’ve just reduced a port to rubble. Do you think anyone gives a shit if you fuck your bosun? With what you and I have just done, our names will be feared for decades. As long as we keep getting our crews paid, we can do what the fuck we want.”

Flint raised an eyebrow, “it’s a point of view.”

Vane spread his hands “it’s a fact, and with the fight that’s coming, it makes sense to bind your best men to you as close as you can, by whatever means. Don’t pretend it would be unpleasant.” He grinned wickedly.

“Your concern for my welfare is touching” Flint replied “but if you don’t mind my asking, why the fuck do you care?”

“Simple” said Vane “now that we are” he searched for the right words “professionally associated, it’s in my interest for you to be at your best. I see a strategic advantage in your attachment to Billy. He’s well-liked by the crew, much more so than you.”

Flint scoffed, but couldn’t deny it.

“They like his influence on you. They would be happy to see it the stronger.”

Flint considered awhile. “You may be right about the crew, but my main concern is for the wider world. I need every merchant captain, every fresh-faced Royal Navy officer to be so terrified of Captain Flint that they shit themselves at the mention of my name. If I acknowledge my weaknesses, how do I achieve that?”

Vane laughed, “for a clever man, you catch on to some things slowly.” He leant forward, his voice a barely audible growl. “A man who lives in full contempt of all civilisation’s rules? That’s the most fearsome thing they can imagine.”

****

Later, when the sun was highest in the sky, Flint went up on deck. From his customary position, he watched the crew about their work. They moved like a well-oiled machine, it was beautiful to see, and made him oddly proud. 

Presently, the Captain’s eyes settled on Billy, who was nimbly climbing up the Main to inspect some imperfection he detected there. His shirt was open a little way, and Flint could just begin to make out the hard curves of his upper body. The power in his arms as he pulled the coarse ropes into place was something to behold. Flint was quite desperate to feel those arms encircling him again.

Vane’s words had been ringing in his head all morning, and although he hated to admit it, he sensed that there was some truth to them. Since his indiscretion with Billy back in Nassau, Flint had managed to avoid being alone with him, and the younger man had acquiesced. But even so, he had replayed the encounter in his head many times in the quiet of his cabin. So much so that he risked doing himself an injury. He had the impression that something had been let out of the box that day, and it wasn’t about to jump back in.

He judged that this was a matter where lengthy analysis would get him nowhere. Perhaps it was best just to leap in, and trust himself to find a way out if things went badly. 

“Mr Bones!” he shouted, more loudly than he needed to. 

“Captain?” Billy replied, his expression begging the question, what couldn’t wait?

“Take your shirt off” bellowed Flint. This time a few of the crew looked up, unsure what they were hearing.

“What?” Billy sounded slightly alarmed.

“I said, take your shirt off.” He winked.

This time, a smattering of ribald laughter followed from the crew. Flint felt their eyes on him.

For a long pause the two men stared at each other.

“For your entertainment?” Billy was starting to smile.

“Yes.”

From down on the deck there was more laughing, and someone shouted ‘get on with it!’ 

Billy shook his head a little, but he was smiling and biting his lip in a way that Flint could read easily. With barely concealed delight, he shrugged theatrically and said “fine.”  
Wrapping his legs around the Main to keep himself upright, he peeled his shirt off slowly, lifting it over his head, to a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles from below. He finished with his arms spread wide and his chin raised high, as if he were challenging Flint to a fight.

Flint let him wait like that for a while, keeping him locked in eye contact. Beneath them, the crew had begun clapping and stamping rhythmically, which only encouraged Flint to stretch out the moment even longer. He couldn’t believe how hard he was already, just from a glimpse of tanned, muscle-rippled, skin. Something about making this public, seemed to intensify his lust. It felt like the worst and most transgressive thing he could possibly do, and who doesn’t want to do that?

Finally, he cocked his head towards his cabin, then turned and strode towards it with some difficulty owing to the pressure in his trousers. The crew’s stomping broke down into hoots and howls, which he hoped Billy could fight his way through without too much difficulty. Flint didn’t doubt for a second that he would follow.

In the event, Billy came through the door at a run. “What the fuck happened to hiding this from the crew?”

Flint began to open his mouth, not sure exactly what he might say, but Billy interrupted “actually, no, don’t answer that. I don’t think I want to know.”

“Good” Flint replied “because I wasn’t looking for a conversation.” He reached around Billy, shut and locked the door behind him, and then slammed his body into the taller man, pulling his head down fiercely into a kiss. The boy tasted of rum, and the soft skin of his lips was salty with brine and sweat. It made Flint want to bite them. Instead, he plunged his tongue inside as deep as it would go. Through his mouth Flint felt that Billy was trying to speak, and he gradually became aware of hands trying to push him away. He pulled his head away slightly, but was still close enough to feel the heat of Billy’s breath on his face. 

“Whoa.. let me catch my breath at least.” Billy rubbed the skin around his lips where Flint’s beard had already begun to redden it. “Why so hard?”

Flint had no answer, beyond his half-lidded eyes and bared teeth. He knew he wanted to go hard at Billy today, but the reasons for that were clouded in his mind. He wondered if it was something about redressing the balance, after the last time. It was astonishing to him, that he’d let himself be taken like that. 

As if in response to the thought, Flint felt Billy starting to stiffen. He flicked his eyes down towards the swell that was tenting Billy’s trousers.“Evidently you like it” he said “so why not?” And inchingly slowly he let their mouths connect again.

Billy sucked Flint’s tongue hungrily, and this time his arms pulled the Captain’s upper body closer. Inside Billy’s mouth was warm and slick, and it made Flint’s cock fizz to think of what else would feel nice in there.

As if he’d read the Captain’s mind, Billy began to unlace Flint’s trousers. His hands were rough and urgent, moving at a fevered pace. But when Flint’s cock was free he became slow and restrained. His right hand teased along Flint’s length, with gentle strokes and slight pressure. It created a ball of white heat at the root of Flint’s cock, but Billy kept withholding the firm touch the Captain craved. Flint moaned, and bit down on the thick muscle of the younger man’s shoulder. 

“Are you trying to mark me now?” Billy whispered, as Flint’s teeth became less playful and more serious. 

Was he trying to stake possession? Flint wasn’t sure, but there was something appealing in the image of Billy going about his work tomorrow, shirt off, with impressions of the Captain’s lust all over him. Marking him out. 

Billy’s hand slid down further and stroked Flint’s balls, which were starting to ache. His touch was still so tentative, Flint had had about as much as he could stand.

“Don’t play with me like some girl” he growled, “either suck it or leave it the fuck alone.” 

Billy grinned wickedly, and took a long look at Flint’s cock, which was straining up and out towards him. Flint’s eyes followed, his cock looked obscene, jutting out from under his shirt. It seemed thicker when Billy was watching it too. Billy licked his finger and circled it softly around the head, “out of interest, how badly do you want me to… oh!”

Flint kicked his right foot out from under him, and Billy landed on his knees.

“You nasty fucker!”

“Shut up and suck it.” But Billy’s tongue was already there. Flint shut his eyes, and gripped the door frame to stop his legs giving way.

Billy swallowed Flint’s full length in one quick descent. The sensation of his mouth was so soft, it was more just warmth and wet. But even so, Flint could have done this thing all day. Flint knew that there was no trick or technique to it, the real pleasure was in watching someone sucking your cock with genuine enthusiasm. Everything about Billy, from his hooded eyes to the moans he made through his nose, said that this was something he understood too. 

It made Flint wonder, had Billy done this before? The idea hurt him, and it thrilled him. What was it Vane had said? ‘I tried to turn him.’ What did that mean? An image of Billy on his knees before Charles Vane, doing exactly this thing, popped into Flint’s head like an unwelcome guest. Unwelcome, but strangely compelling. He vacillated between wanting to be Billy’s first, and wanting him to be the most depraved slut in the new world.

As he watched, Flint ran his fingers through the velvet of Billy’s close-cropped hair. The boy was giving everything to this act, licking and sucking Flint’s wet erection with slavish attention to detail, stopping now to flick his tongue over its pinkish head. He really was beautiful like this. Flint nearly said the words, but somehow bit them back. White heat fizzed along Flint’s cock, and somewhere behind his eyes. It made him eager for a more forceful touch. He began to thrust himself in and out of Billy’s mouth, getting harder and faster, gripping the back of Billy’s head tightly, forcing him to take it.

Billy kept his mouth open obediently, he seemed determined to take everything Flint could give. Flint knew how it felt to abandon yourself to someone you love. Was that what this was?

His mind switched back to the last time, Billy’s ecstatic voice saying ‘I love you’. God knows, men say all kinds of things at the point of release, but Flint was dimly aware of a small hope inside him that Billy was being truthful. He didn’t want to examine his own feelings beyond that.

A choking sound from Billy brought Flint back to the present. He pulled out quickly, and dropped down to his knees. Billy’s mouth was puffy and he was panting. Flint put his hands out to touch Billy’s face, kissing him softly and caressing the boy’s swollen lips with his own.

“Sorry” he whispered “I didn’t mean to…..I lost myself.”

“It’s OK”, Billy was smiling, liking the praise “I like pleasing you.”

“Do you like to please anyone else?” Flint wasn’t sure where the question had come from, and immediately regretted it. “No, don’t answer.” He put his hand over Billy’s mouth. “It’s none of my…”

He trailed off, and began kissing Billy’s ear, squeezing its soft lobe between his teeth. Wanting to inflict pain again, or maybe to consume this compliant young man.

Now that they were both kneeling, Flint could feel Billy’s erection knocking against his. He pressed himself into it, and just about managed to grip both their cocks with one broad hand. Bloody hell, Billy was hard. It gave Flint a twinge of jealousy to feel the steely thick muscle under his fingers. He pumped his fist up and down, enjoying the slip and slide of Billy’s shaft against his own, and making them both sticky and glistening with pre-come.

“I imagine you can shoot a yard in the air with this thing.” Flint growled.

Billy laughed “do you want to see?”

Flint groaned, and felt his eyes roll up inside his head. “I want to fuck you first.”

Billy’s face became serious, he struggled to his feet and pulled Flint up after him. With deft fingers he unbelted his trousers and let them fall to the ground, kicking them off as they hit the floor. Flint’s cock gave another twitch at the realisation of how badly Billy wanted this too. It made the Captain stand even straighter and taller, needing to justify the boy’s desire, his devotion.

“How do you want me then?” Billy’s voice was rough with anticipation.

Flint took a moment to consider, enjoying the sight of Billy’s naked body, so hard and perfect. He loves me watching him, Flint thought, and thrilled to see Billy’s hands around his own cock, obviously aroused by Flint’s appraising stare.

“Go to my desk and bend over it.”

“Like I'm about to be flogged?” 

“If you like.”

Billy did so, sticking his arse in the air and looking over his shoulder at Flint with an inviting expression that the Captain considered damn near obscene.

He approached slowly, not quite trusting himself, his balls ached so intensely now and he didn’t want to spill over with his first thrust. Billy had stretched his arms out in front of him, and was holding tight to the far edge of the desk. Flint thought, 'he expects a vicious assault, or is he just hoping for it?'

Flint reached into the desk drawer for the bottle of oil, covering not just his fingers but his whole hand, for good measure. He swept his palms over the swell of Billy’s arse, it was too easy to imagine what the sensation of his touch was doing to the younger man. With his fingers now he circled closer and closer to the dark pink cleft, provoking groans of frustration. Then suddenly, on impulse, he dipped his head and ran the tip of his tongue around the edge of the tight little hole. Billy exhaled loudly, and his body twisted. 

“Oh… dear god.” He sounded almost in pain.

Encouraged by Billy’s reaction, and the excitement of his own cock, Flint continued less tentatively, using the fuller part of his tongue. He swirled it around in circles, gradually increasing his pressure, as Billy writhed and the muscles in his arse contracted. With every jerk of Billy’s body Flint got stiffer, it was as though he could himself feel everything that Billy felt.

“Fuck me, fuck me” Billy started saying it over and over, like a chant. And Flint was ready to grant his wish.

He straightened his back, took his cock in his hand and began to push against Billy’s resistance. But he met surprisingly little. With just a gentle pressure, he was in up to the hilt. The feeling of slick heat around him was delicious, but it was mildly alarming how quickly Billy was ready. Again the question came unbidden, had he done this before, and with what frequency? Flint wasn’t sure what he wanted the answers to be. Something in his stomach ached at the thought of Billy with anyone but himself. The desire to stake his claim, his rights to this body, reared up again. 

Aroused and anxious in equal measure, he began pounding Billy hard. Pulling almost fully out every time and then slamming back in. Billy was noisy this time, he could hardly help it. Every thrust of Flint’s cock drew a shout or a gasp, drowning out Flint’s own grunts and growls of effort.

Was it pleasure or pain? Flint didn’t know, and wasn’t sure he cared. He wasn’t fully in control of himself. He grabbed Billy’s hips and ground himself as deep as he could go, not fucking as much as impaling him, trying to touch every part inside the bosun with the tip of his cock. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of Billy’s face, looking over his shoulder again to give encouragement. He could have been drunk, his eyes were dark slits, and his lips were parted. He looked entirely undone and in complete bliss.

Flint tried to hold back, but he couldn’t stop his balls from emptying themselves deep inside, a hot river shooting from the base of his cock. He felt like his skeleton had turned to mercury and drained away. It went on and on, until Flint was almost insensible. He heard himself say “you’re all mine, all mine” between shuddering breaths. It was more than just a climax, it was something magnified by emotion. In his spent and intoxicated state, Flint felt a sudden flush of affection and attachment to Billy, it washed over him from head to toe like a warm, wet cloth. His chest heaving, he bent forward to rest his head on Billy’s back. It was hot, and damp with sweat. He reached out to find Billy’s hands, and clasped them tight, resting until his heartbeat began to slow down.

“What did you mean, when you said you loved me?” Flint whispered the words softly into the back of his bosun’s neck. It was easier to talk to him this way.

“Exactly what I said” Billy replied, his voice slightly muffled through the cold wood of the desk, “I’m not as subtle as you are.”

Flint smiled “and I thank god for that, but… you don’t think I’m a good man, do you?” He was fishing and he knew it.

Billy's face twitched “I suppose not.” The admission cut into Flint’s heart like a dagger. “Honestly, I couldn’t say what you are, but I do know that a good man with your vision would most likely get himself killed, probably along with all of his crew. Good men are dangerous. I’ll take the dark, conflicted bastard I know, because he has a chance. Now can I get up please?”

Flint pulled himself upright, and Billy followed shortly after, wincing and rubbing at the welts on his thighs that the sharp edge of the desk had made. He tried to turn around, but Flint prevented him, not wanting the boy to see the moisture in his eyes. Instead the Captain reached his right hand around Billy’s body and found his cock, "your turn."

Holding Billy tight like this, his chest pressed into the bosun’s back, Flint could slide his hand up and down Billy’s shaft freely, as though it were his own. At his touch, it immediately stiffened again, and as his fingers closed around its girth, Flint could feel it growing and getting hotter against his palm. The boy began to moan, he was watching his Captain’s hand at work. And Flint was attending to him with loving strokes, alternating between thumb and forefinger flicks across the sensitive tip, and long sweeps that reached right down to the root. A distance which, with eyes closed, seemed impossibly long. 

He regulated his speed and pressure in response to Billy’s breathing, and found he could judge perfectly when to hold back, wanted to prolong the experience for them both as long as possible. After a short while, when Billy began thrusting his hips against Flint’s strokes, he even felt his own cock beginning to stir again. 

Suddenly, Billy arched his back sharply, curling his head over the Captain’s shoulder. “Please, please…”

Flint adjusted his position to get a better view, and said “come for me, do it now” knowing full well what effect his words would have. Billy inhaled hard and held his breath, as Flint increased the speed of his strokes.

“Aahh, shit!”

The sensation of Billy’s thick, rigid cock pulsing and pumping in his hand was exquisite. Flint watched hungrily as Billy sprayed milky come all over the desk, spilling himself through Flint’s fingers, making them hot and sticky. Compulsively, Flint brought his hand up to his mouth and licked until he was clean. The taste was unlike anything else, it was liquid sex.

Now that Billy was done, Flint finally let the boy go. Turning away, he tucked himself back into his trousers, and tied back a few wayward strands of hair. 

“You should get dressed” he said. 

Billy was still panting, leaning his hands against the desk for support, and staring with a slightly anxious expression at the mess he’d made of it. Flint found a chair and sat down. As he watched Billy dressing, groggily, he felt a crackle in the air of something unsaid. Something he should have said. It made him fidget.

“Does it concern you, whether your feelings are returned?”

Billy sighed “I know you too well to expect it. If you do love me, I doubt you know it.”

Flint felt twitchy and restless. Here was the consequence of a fearsome reputation. Even those that love you think you some kind of monster.

“I do feel a great affection for you” he said, the words coming out slightly choked, “I don’t think I can put a name to it, but even so…” He found he couldn’t go on.

Billy smiled, “let’s start with something a bit easier.”

Flint looked up warily.

“What we’ve just done here, can I assume that you don’t want me to do that with anyone else?”

Flint squirmed “are you mine to command then?”

Billy answered with a raised eyebrow. What more evidence did the Captain want.

“Very well” Flint nodded, forcing some authority back into his voice, “from now on you do this with me, and no one else. That will be my expectation.”

Grinning, Billy said “well that’s something.” He went to pull his shirt back on, but stopped. “You should give me your shirt” he said, after a pause.

“What? What’s wrong with yours?”

“Nothing, but.. just imagine it’s like a flag, I’d be wearing your colours.”

Flint had to admit, the idea had some appeal. Perhaps it would act as a warning, keep the others away. He stood up, pulled his shirt over his head and threw it to Billy. “What am I going to wear?” he said, sounding slightly petulant.

“Just wear your jacket over your bare chest.” Billy crossed the room, his expression poking gentle fun, and traced his fingers over Flint’s pectoral muscles. “Do it for my entertainment.”

Flint smiled, “I suppose I deserve that.”

Billy broke away after one last lingering look, and made for the door. Flint toyed with pulling him back, going another round, but reluctantly gave way. After all, the bosun had other work to attend to, beyond his Captain’s immediate needs.

Flint followed him to the doorway, and stood a while watching him about his business. He climbed all over the ship, deft fingers finding problems and fixing them, a new spring in his step. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Flint spotted another watcher, also following Billy’s movements closely. Charles Vane was leaning arrogantly against the starboard rail, hips thrust forward as ever. His mouth was drawn into a tight slit. Had he noticed Flint’s shirt? And what exactly was his interest anyway? He’d been the one to instigate this whole thing, why should he be unhappy to see it come to fruition?

The answers were unknowable, for now. But Flint felt a knot of tension in his chest. This partnership with Vane needed to hold together. But this thing with Billy was developing a momentum of its own, and he wasn’t inclined to stop it, even if he should. He hoped against hope that the two didn’t come into conflict. Time would tell.


End file.
